


Chekhov's Gun

by chaiouse



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: (barely), Blow Jobs, Breeding, Choking, Cuckolding, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Fingering, Gangbang, Goro gets called numerous things, Goro has a pussy, Lace Panties, M/M, Mindbreak, Multi, Phone sex (of sorts), Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Spitroasting, Subspace, Talk of Impregnation, Train Sex, Verbal Humiliation, all degrading, bottom!Goro, cuckhold!Akira, dear lord these tags are filthy, gratuitous blowjobs and a whole sum of statements, mobgoro - Freeform, no I will not elaborate on that, one reference to somnophila, use of "cunt" and "pussy" for female genitalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28849314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaiouse/pseuds/chaiouse
Summary: Goro finds himself alone on a train-cart with some fanboys. They indulge in their fantasies.Goro bit his tongue while he was ahead, getting on his knees to scrabble for his smarmy briefcase that had slid under the transit-booth.“Nice ass kid.”At this, Goro whipped his head back to sneer at the drunkard. What the fuck?! He thought. “What the fuck?!” He said, briefcase forgotten for a moment. Instead, all his focus was on the swaying salaryman. Goro snarled at him like a rabid mutt, though his kneeled position on the floor painted him as a minuscule chihuahua.The man let out a hearty laugh, “it seems you heard me the first-time pretty boy.”
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Other(s), Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62





	Chekhov's Gun

**Author's Note:**

> I believe in the objectification of Akechi...  
> (In which the _gun _is several unsheathed cocks.)__

Goro’s wrists ache. He’s been holding his damn padfolio briefcase for the better part of half an hour in this crowded, musty train-cart. There’s a tipsy businessman behind him and an enervated blue-collar worker to the front. He feels a bit squished, like a Goro sandwich.

The train rumbles, as if it’s on its last leg. Light beams just barely filter in through the city walls. Any light that does manage to bypass the concrete parapets is a tainted dusty red. Like blood-spatter on the cheap transit seats. The sun is dying, low in the sky. Goro can see it flicker between the buildings.

He’s so damn tired.

The firm seemed to drone on incessantly today, an endless list of clients, a persisting pile of paperwork. Towards the end of it, the only thing that got him through the day was the image of his loving boyfriend at home. Goro let out a sigh at the thought. Home awaited him with open arms and a meaty dinner, it was Akira’s turn to cook tonight.

Goro licked his lips, his hands fastening around the train’s flimsy plastic support-handle. His stomach growling at the thought of warm curry. He was mad starving, and his lack of a lunchbreak today did nothing to help the matter. Not that a single granny apple would do much for his famished insides.

The train rumbled like it’d been struck by Zeus, causing the cart to jolt up. Goro was sent hurdling back into the businessman. His briefcase skidding along the floor beside him. He made an undignified squealing sound as his back hit the man’s chest. The sound originating from deep inside his stomach, he sounded like a pig contesting at a slaughterhouse. From his position, nestled right under the man’s neck, Goro could smell the bile-worthy liquor.

Akechi had never liked alcohol, a childhood of being passed foster home to foster home had instilled the hatred inside him. You meet one drunken foster-parent you’ve met them all. Goro stifled a huff, shoving off the businessman with as much grace as a toddler doing ballet.

His once carefully pressed suit-jacket was now creased to the nines! And he stunk like a skunk, all because of that blasted drunkard. Reeking like the lacking half of a brewery. Goro had half a mind to tell off the man, to scream at him and shove him off the train.

It was at times like this his anger got the best of him. Rage boiled up inside him like a narrow-spouted teakettle nowadays, spilling over into his everyday inconveniences. Probably making up for the years of bottling up every conceivable emotion he experienced during his youth. In retrospect, Goro felt he deserved the instability. But to be frank, Goro felt like he deserved a lot of the injurious things he got.

Goro bit his tongue while he was ahead, getting on his knees to scrabble for his smarmy briefcase that had slid under the transit-booth.

“Nice ass kid.”

At this, Goro whipped his head back to sneer at the drunkard. What the fuck?! He thought. “What the fuck?!” He said, briefcase forgotten for a moment. Instead, all his focus was on the swaying salaryman. Goro snarled at him like a rabid mutt, though his kneeled position on the floor painted him as a minuscule chihuahua.

The man let out a hearty laugh, “it seems you heard me the first-time pretty boy.” His unregimented hand coming up to hold his jostling stomach.

Akechi stood up to meet the man’s bloodshot eyes, he’s about half a head shorter than the man, but he’s seriously considering igniting an altercation with him. Goro is seething, the happy place of Akira and warm curry at home is gone, dead. Lost somewhere behind the dust his briefcase was encased in.

“No, no I don’t think I did.”

The train cart jolts up again, causing the fluorescents to flicker, drenching them in darkness for a moment. The salaryman tilts his head down at Goro, his lips are painted in disdain. “Pretty thing like you?” He makes a half-hearted gesture at Akechi, his hands are wrinkled and dirty. “You should come to expect this sort of stuff, it’s a compliment.”

I have a boyfriend, Goro thinks. “I don’t want your compliments.” He says instead. A lechery old man doesn’t need to know he has a partner, a lechery old man shouldn’t be hitting on a twenty-something in the first place.

Behind him, the blue-collar worker is stifling a laugh behind his hands. Goro wants to wring his neck, maybe maim them both. He feels humiliated, the entire cart is looking in on the display. Like he’s some freak-show, like he’s some nutcase they can all scrutinize for entertainment.

“Mind your business.” He spits at them, and the collective shield away from his glare. Goro turns back to the drunkard, hands squeezed in fists. His leather gloves creasing up in his rage. “Don’t fucking-”

A member of the crowd cuts him off before he can get out his scathing reply. “Aren’t you that detective boy?”

Goro’s eyes go wide as saucers, glancing back at the crowd. The man who spoke has a sunhat, he’s not wearing anything else noteworthy, but his build is stocky. “Huh…?” Goro slips out, more confused than anything.

“Yeah,” another patron walks forward, eyeing Goro up and down, “you’re the pretty detective boy from tv. Hell, you look even better in person.”

Goro blinks aimlessly, a small mob forming around him, all spouting out various factoids from his time as a television hound and folly ace detective. The blue-collar worker from before gets close to him, almost barking into his face.

“Old man wasn’t lying; he got an ass on ‘im.”

Akechi is taken aback by this, wondering what the hell he had just gotten himself into. He took a benign step back, only to be met with a steel pole. He was surrounded on all sides, licentious men grabbed onto his gloves like he was a piece of meat up for auction. Amongst the commotion, Goro couldn’t even make out the directory calls for the train, all sound was derailed by the incessant scrambling of the mob.

Goro attempted to placate the situation, the only way he knew how. “Woah! Woah, I- yes, I was a detective for a short period of time during my youth but I’m not some big-time celebrity! If you want an autograph, I can give you that, but I have my own needs to attend to. Please calm down!!” His hands are up in a defensive motion, voice soft and soothing and coated in fake niceties.

“Autograph?”

“Needs…?”

“Auto?- I don’t want no dammed autograph boy.”

All at once, Goro realizes his mistake. His lapse in judgement, his misuse of tongue. He’s made a mistake, a grave one at that. Couldn’t he see these people were eying him up like a rare seafood buffet?

He scrambles to regain a foothold amidst the mob. “Ah! What I meant to say was, I have some errands I have to attend to after this, so I can’t stay here long with… you… all.” He finishes weakly, cursing himself a thousand times internally. His consciousness sounds awfully reminiscent of Loki; he curses it.

“Something more important than your adoring fans prince detective?” Someone shouts out.

Goro thinks of his home with Akira, and their litany of adopted street-cats. _Much more important_ , he thinks.

“Unfortunately, yes, and it’s very important that I get there on time. I’d love to stay with you all, my… loving fans- but alas, I only have enough time for a few autographs.” He leaves out the fact that he’d rather not have his photo taken, that pleasantry had been thrown out the window about five minutes prior. Now with each word he spoke, a small _click_ or _flash_! accompanied it. He felt ever-more the freak-show he rued to be likened to earlier.

The mob seemed to murmur about themselves for a moment, almost like they were debating his answer. Goro felt his stomach flip flop, noting his briefcase was still somewhere underneath the transit booth and he had zero clue where he currently was. It might even be possible that he had missed his stop in the commotion! He prays the mob quiet down and let him go with a measly exit. He’d hate to be late for Akira’s curry again. (Last time he was so late that, by the time he had gotten home the curry had boiled down into a sludgy soup, it upset both Goro’s heart and his stomach.)

Surely his fans wouldn’t be _that_ demanding.

“’Kay detective, we understand you’re a busy man.” A man blurts out, pushing to the front of the crowd and reaching into his messenger bag, drawing out a tiny notebook. Leather-bound and mint coloured, he pushes it into Goro’s waiting hands, mumbling something about being a big fan.

Goro smiles his notorious saccharine press-smile at the man and the subsequent crowd behind him, signing the first blank page he sees with quick strokes of his ballpoint. The stationery was decked out with some fairly on the nose crow paraphernalia, a gift from Akira.

“Thank you for your continued support!” Goro says, his voice high and ersatz, he hates sounding like this. Wishing he could take away any semblance of his past with a snap of his fingers. He hates being known, but there’s nothing to be done of it. As Akira reminds him every-so often, it is what it is.

Goro exhales out, deep and breathy at the same time. Nodding to the next man striding up to his side, hands already open and waiting with his pen, it was best to get through this quickly and explain himself once he got home.

“What are you getting up to after this ‘tective?” A man left of him converses. Goro’s eyes narrow a tad, he doesn’t want to share his intimate details with a bunch of randoms. Even less converse with them like they're old pals at a high school reunion.

“Errands.” Goro attempts to cut off the dialogue, voice still all too high and sweet, swapping a notebook for a beige wallet.

The collective murmur around themselves again, like they were some symbiotic mega-creature. Goro recognizes this oddity, but he pushes it to the back of his mind.

“You’ve grown up pretty well, hey detective?”

Goro lets out a weak laugh, deciding it was better not to respond to that particular comment. He doesn’t want to think about how the compliment makes him feel. Usually, it was Akira dousing him in praise. He’s associated the two, effectively pavloving himself.

Essentially, he’s blushing, high and up in his ears. Pink at the tips, and the mob definitely notices.

“Boy’s blushin’!! You look like a doll ya know? All filled out and pretty now.”

“I’ll say- all his weight’s in the ass. Looks like a damn model.”

“And his skin, so milky and youthful. I bet it’d mark up so nicely.”

Goro’s brain flutters, the praise quickly getting to his head. The train-cart seems to distort for a moment, the mob’s faces all bleeding into the foreground. Just what the _hell_ was happening?

“I- thank you all but I’m-” he’s swiftly interrupted.

“And his lips, plump and red, bet they’d feel like magic ‘round my cock.”

A man groans in agreement, “love to get him all choked up on my cock, see him struggle to breathe with every thrust. Getting all messy, drooling all over his prissy suit.”

A moan escapes Goro before he can stop it, the idea is just too evoking. His button-up feels blistering against his skin, his mind a whirlwind. He can’t for the life of him concentrate, he can’t even remember what he was doing before this mob commotion. What was he doing? His thoughts were encased in a gaussian blur. It must’ve not been important if he couldn’t even remember it! Surely his adoring fans were more important than whatever he was engrossed in before.

“Bet he gets wet like a girl too… I always wanted to give ‘im the ride of his life back in the ‘ol interview days.” The man in the sunhat says.

“You think his cunt’s nice and sloppy? Or tight like a vice?” Another man deliberates.

Goro can’t seem to open his mouth, he’s salivating like a mutt. The mob’s comments wash over him like the high tide, and he’s getting swept up in it.

“Look at him, puppy’s slobbering all-over ‘imself! Do you like being talked down to pretty boy? Like being treated like a lowly prostitute?”

“Yeah, he likes it, rubbing his thighs together like a slut in heat. You gettin’ wet down there baby boy?”

Goro whimpers, his thoughts fuddled, thighs shaky. His hands are twitching at his sides, he’s flicking his head back and forth, almost attempting to take stock of the crowd. But it’s no use, his vision is blurry as it is and there’s far too many people to count. All he can see is libidinous expressions and greedy smiles. He feels like prey that’s been found out by a pack of predators.

A celebrity should always strive to make their fans happy, right?

“I-I…” Goro falls over his words, bottom lip trembling, both in fear and in anticipation. To the left of him, a man staggers over. Seemingly taking initiative of the collective. He starts rubbing up against Akechi’s leg, panting into his ear like an animal. Goro feels like a deer in headlights, eyes wide and frantic, looking down at the man’s obvious bulge pressed against his waist. Then up at his perspiring face, eyes dark and dilated. The man is gigantic compared to him, easily a head taller. With a quick glance around, Goro notes that the majority of the collective have a few inches on him. He feels infinitesimal in comparison, like a white rabbit caught in the clutches of a fearsome wolf-pack.

“Yeah, you like that little boy?” The man whispers into Goro’s ear, palming him through his slacks. There’s a voice in the back of Goro’s mind telling him this isn’t right, that he shouldn’t be letting this happen, that this is wrong, but it’s far away. Fading more-so with each second the man humps into him. Goro can feel a wet spot forming in his underwear. Without his consent, his hips thrust up into the foreign hand.

“I- Ye-yes...” Goro whimpers out, fists clutching at the man’s shoulders. Hips undulating against his palm. He really does feel like a bitch in heat, whining and weeping at how _good_ it feels.

Suddenly, as if struck alive, the mob surrounds Goro, pushing and peeling away at his clothes. It happens so fast he can barely comprehend it. His mind narrowed down to the hand thrusting up into his clothed cunt and the cock throbbing at his side. He wanted it so badly, no- needed it!!

The mob made short work of his clothing, stripping off his crinkled blazer and dainty gloves with precision. Goro can make out the drunken salaryman from earlier, greedily sniffing at the leather like it was traced with cocaine.

His vision is reduced to a haze. “Oh! Ha-haah- nnuhh- feels so good Mister…” Goro lets out, his now freed hands were hurriedly clutched by two other men. He felt tied up and bound, like any movement he made towards escape would be quickly shut down.

Not that Goro intended to run, he was more than pleased to stay and pleasure his fans. A celebrity was nothing without their admirers anyways.

“You’re grinding on me all needy, you want this bad, don’t you? Need something to fill your greedy holes up.” The man barks at him.

“Yess-yes!! You understand, an ace detective like me would be nothing without my fans, I’m so grateful for you all, th-thank you…” Goro’s voice is quick and stilted, “a greedy slut like me loves being manhandled!!” He playfully tugs at his hands, but they don’t budge.

It makes him feel gorgeous, like he was something precious that needed to be locked up. Left in only his clammy button-up and slacks, Goro looked wholeheartedly debauched. Especially as he rode the man’s hand for all it’s worth. His breaths high pitched and staggered, like a schoolgirl caught in the supply closet. Desperately wanting for something to fill their depraved cunt.

Goro let his head fall back, mind racing a thousand miles a second and yet, stilled with static. “Unngghh-” He groaned out unpleasantly, hips whipping back into the man’s hand. “Ohh- fuck!! Need more! Give me more! My only request, as my fans, would you all please- use me to your hearts content!!”

His moans were met with chuckles, oh how easy this wilted detective was to break.

“Woah, never expect you to be this big of a slut detective.”

“I am!!” Goro affirmed, squealing in need. “Oh! I am!!”

“All it takes for him to break is some measly transit harassment?? Boy do I wanna see him when he’s properly wrecked. He’s already squealing for cock like a fucking pig,” the man logged the way Goro whimpered at the association. “Oh? You like that? Like being called a pig pretty boy? Hmm- maybe we’ll dub you our fuck-pig then. If you’re that desperate to please your fans, how’s that sound for a moniker?” The man snickered at Goro’s answering carmine face. He looked drunk on lust.

“Oh- nuuh-yes!! Fuck-pig… I like that.” Goro purred, his line of sight fixated on the man clutching at his left hand. His mouth felt wet, like he was drooling.

Akechi made a few incoherent pleas to the man on his left before his unspoken wish was finally granted, the man swiftly stuffed two fingers into his mouth in a flurry. Up to the knuckle in under a second, plugging up one hole while another man worked on Goro’s belt. Goro could only roll up his eyes in glee.

The abrupt intrusion into his mouth causes his tear ducts to well up, but Goro was far too floaty to care. Oscillating his head round like he was high on carnality. Blissed out and giggling at the manifold of men thronging him.

“His mouth feels like a pussy, gripping my fingers and pulling me in.” The man reported with an oil-spill smirk, before revolving his attention onto Goro, “you’re such a greedy pig, begging for your own fans to ruin you. How’d your precious reputation fair if someone saw you right now??”

Goro moaned around the digits in his mouth, waggling frantically at the idea. He wanted to be seen, to be devoured! For all his adoring fans to see just how slutty and pathetic he was, see him spread out and open for these men. He wanted it to be televised! For it to be a national event!! Everyone in Tokyo deserved to see him get fucked into oblivion. Goro’s head was spinning, the constant motion of the train-cart only perpetuating this sensation.

All he could think of was cock. All he wanted was cock.

All of Goro’s worldly desires had fissured out, his briefcase lay forgotten under the grimy train-booth. Collecting dust as the mob moved further and further in, like a python seizing up its prey.

“Boy’s eyes keep rolling up. Like he’s seeing god or something, drooling around my fingers like they’re anything special. Makes me want to gag him with my cock, keep him plugged up on it till he’s clean out, limp as a doll. Wanna fuck him over and over again till he wakes up on it, filled to the brim with cock and confused.”

“That’s what fuck-pig’s like ‘im deserve, that’s what he _needs_. He’s less than human, just a depraved fuck-doll for us to use as we please.”

The man tampering with Goro’s belt finally seemed to pry it loose, wrenching away the slacks like they encased buried treasure. The rest of the men cleaved the material into bits, strewing the fabric around the train-cart like it was confetti.

For a moment, there was silence. As if Medusa herself had materialized in the cart and turned the men to stone.

Then, a deep exhale from the mob, sounding like militia men after a ceasefire had been issued. Sprawling all over each other in their desperation to see the eight wonder of the world.

“…Fuck.”

Goro Akechi was wearing _panties_. Pink, lacey, panties.

“Jesus fuck. Thank you for this meal.” A man entreated, met with a murmur of agreement.

Goro felt his face go red, squinting down at the observable tops of his panties and back to his devotees. All whom looked ready to wolf him down, it made his thighs quiver in zeal.

And yet, Goro couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that this was _wrong._ That these panties weren’t for the eyes of the mob, but a wall blocked these notions from replete recognition. Goro whined around his makeshift gag, bashfully fluttering his eyelashes at the men, composing a come-hither expression. If these panties weren’t for his fans, then who could they _possibly_ be for?

Goro shook away the thought.

“Planning on hiding these from us little pig? Shuffling your thighs together like some virginal schoolgirl? We can see detective. We can all see how slutty you really are.” The man clutching his right arm spoke. His grip tightening along with his words.

Akechi mumbled around the fingers, words lost in translation, but his red-rimmed eyes conveyed enough for the mob to advance.

“Mmm- wanna take my cock little pig? These fingers not doing it for you?? Do you want more detective?”

Goro hummed, his eyes glazed over and hazy as he ogled at the man. Opening up his mouth wide to let his tongue pop out, curling around the two digits and slipping in-between. As if he were performing cunnilingus.

The mob groaned at the sight of their piglet’s tongue. “Fuck… who let you be so perfect?”

The praise hit Goro like a brick, his cunt pulsing around nothing. He thrashed around a bit, desperately wanting to grind against a palm, a cock, a face. _Anything_.

“You like that doll?”

“Mmnnuh!! Hhh-hnah!” Goro answered, drivelling and drooling all over himself. Chin coated in his own spit, slobbering down his neck and onto his button-up.

The man pulled out his digits, splaying them around to string along the spit, dabbing at Goro’s puckered lips. He let out a deep chuckle, “pretty little pig with pink lips and pink panties. Is your pussy pink as well detective?”

Goro let out a keen, jerking up his hips in response. The concoction of wintry transit-air and the libidinous words of the mob made him gush. Lace rubbing his inner thighs wet, his cunt weeping in need.

“P-please.” Goro choked out, wanting more than anything to be stuffed and sated. His now freed sinistral weakly grasped at the man’s own spit-covered metacarpus. The words dying on his tongue.

The mob however, heard him unencumbered. Fumbling around their piglet’s prone body to form a half-circle, doubling as an assembly. Goro’s eyes broadened at the show, gawking at the sheer expanse of men he would shortly pleasure.

He was set down on the train-cart floor without much extended comfort, the men at his sides remaining, now working on their own belt-loops.

The spectacle made Goro’s head spin, making him feel like a proper whore.

“Gonna fuck you good little pig, fill you up and breed you proper.”

“You’re about to get the ride of your life detective.” The men’s obscene sacrilege pervaded the train cart. Overlapping each other in decadence.

The queue moved together in unison, like a heard of cattle being shepherded. Encircling their diminutive pig with greased smirks and unzipped pants.

Without any grace or further pleasantries, a collared salaryman marched up to Goro, looking up and down at him like he was the scum of the Earth. The condescension in his eyes made Goro’s cunt pulse. He grabbed onto Goro’s shoulder’s like a child would a toy, his freed cock now veering mid-air. “About time you got a taste of cock, and who better to introduce you then your adoring devotees?”

Goro’s eyes broadened a bit, propping open his mouth to present himself to the mob, showing just how eager he was to satisfy his fans.

The man groaned at the demonstration, forcing Goro up onto his knees, manhandling the lithe body with his grip on the younger’s shoulders. The granular floor of the train cart must’ve been hard on Akechi’s knees, but the man couldn’t bring himself to care. Instead, thrusting clean into the pink puckered entrance, holding itself wide and open for his cock.

“Gughhuk!” The sudden intrusion causing his piglet to gag and sputter, but he quickly learnt to manage. Goro’s drunken eyes welling up and his blunt nails digging into bare thighs. Staring up at the man crudely fucking into his throat like he was divinity, like he was a god.

“Fuck… His mouth feels like heaven.” The man moaned out, feeling pussy drunk already.

Goro eyes rolled, barely comprehending the mob encompassing him, stepping forwards. At his sides, grubby hands began to slide along his slick skin. Taking up the canvas of his chest with avarice. Hands slid around his waist, his thighs, his clothed nipples. One man palming at his heat through the flushed rosé of the lace panties. Goro squirmed up into the men’s strokes like a cheap harlot. Whimpering in desideratum.

The man’s clutch on Goro’s lissom shoulder was branding. Using the brunet as his own personal ragdoll. He thrust into the pig’s mouth wildly, sweat dripping off him in exertion. “Fucking slut, pulling in my cock like a vixen. You practice cock-sucking...?” The man grunts, biting his lip till it swelled up ruby-red.

Goro makes a garrotted humming sound. He can’t raise an affirmative because his mouth is stuffed with cock, and he can’t give the man a thumbs-up either. Both of his hands have quickly been employed by swelling cocks.

“Unquestionably, look how much he’s enjoying himself!” A rowdy member of the mob calls out.

Goro attempts to groan in content, he couldn’t be more exultant with his current predicament. Men surrounding him on either side, watching him with hungry eyes. In his hands, the men’s cocks act like race cars. Each spurting at a contemptable pace, but as soon as the men are spent, they are replaced by new members.

Goro felt at the mercy of a procession, a never-ending greed to fruition, to climax. His head spun threads of roving. Thick and pliant; malleable.

At the mercy of the mob, Goro’s mind left him.

The train moves fast pace around him, both the mob and the cart. Goro can barely make out the reedy voice calling out stations, yet no one gets on. He’s stuck in his world of cock and musk and spunk. The smell of humiliation permeates through the thick air.

Amidst the sounds of men grunting and the hot press of his own need against his abdomen, Goro finds himself through the fog. His jaw aches from the sheer amount of cock he’s warmed. His eyes, no doubt ran red and runny. Time had lost all meaning for Goro, he measured it in increments of men’s climaxes.

A man smacks the side of his cheek, likely an effort to wake him up. The haze around Goro seemed to tighten a bit, before dissipating enough for him to renew lapping at the cock in front of him. His nails dug deep into his thighs, quelling the urge to touch himself. Vowing that good things came to those who wait.

There’s another slap. This time a playful reward rather than a chastisement. “Good boy.” The man thrusting into Goro’s mouth bites out.

The praise eases the lingering sting of the hit.

Men advance around him, pulling and plying him like a doll. He lets himself be pushed towards the fresh meat. There’s a taste of salt in his mouth, something thick. Goro finds it hard to swallow around it, even harder with the foreign extremities in his mouth.

Growing tired with the trophy show, a select few volatile members of the mob kneel down to Goro’s level. Hands grabbing at his delicate lace, adding unsightly rips and tears in the fabric. Exposing his bare pussy for the eyes of the cart.

Goro’s being lurid, muffled by cock and accounted for by the men using his hands as fleshlights. His hips jerk weakly into the air, desperate for friction against his sobbing cunt. His throat is all closed up, he can barely get past a reedy whine through the cock fucking his mouth.

“Want my fingers baby?” The man kneeled in front of him whispers, his dark eyes fixed on the swollen cunt in front of him. Goro jerks again, his hole pulsing around nothing but empty promise.

“Hhah~”

The man wets his fingers with his spit, eyes still planted on Goro’s pussy. His other hand palming at himself through his jeans. His fingers give no room for complaint, and he stuffs them in without an inch of mercy.

The force of his fingers nearly causes Goro to topple over, but behind him is the strong predatory presence of another man. Holding him up, whispering sweet pleas and dirty promises into his hair. Goro feels his ear go wet from the condensation.

“Good boy, just sit still and look pretty for Daddy.” The title makes Goro’s ears ring, his head is all but a low buzz. The man stands up on his knees, rubbing his cock into the swell of Goro’s ass.

“That’s just right baby, you wanna be a good boy for us, don’t you?” The man fingering Goro coos. His eyes beady with sweat collecting at his temples, Goro almost wants to lick at it, just to renew the taste of salt in his mouth.

And as if the mob read his thoughts, another cock pushes its way down Goro’s throat. He squeals at the intrusion, teary eyes blinking down at the fingers inside him. His pussy must’ve clenched down on them, judging by the way the man groans, licking at his thumb and positioning it just above Goro’s clit, rubbing in slow circular motions.

It’s torture.

One of the men rubbing his cock along Goro’s cheek lets his hand fall, scooping up some of the spilt spunk with one finger, using the pseudo-lube to pinch and pull at Goro’s pert nipples. Goro let’s himself be pulled by the man, feeling like a pup on a leash. His movement pushes him further onto the fingers inside of him.

“That’s a good little pig, fuck yourself on my fingers for me.” The man praises into Goro’s inner thigh, lapping at the flesh just enough to leave a rosy mark. Barely noticeable over the flush of his thighs. The man’s fingers curl up as he speaks, producing a lengthy whimper from the detective.

The tide swells up and washes over him, fingers pushing him this and that way, a mouth on his clit, a cock slick with precum, sliding along his tits. The sounds of the mob almost distract Goro from how loud he’s being. Openly panting like a whore, eyes rolled up to the dingy lights of the transit cart. 

Distantly, there’s a jingle, muffled and quiet. Goro never seems to notice, but the mob churns to a halt. The cock accompanying Goro’s throat slips out with a soft, _plop!_ The fingers inside him remain but stop their incessant scissoring motions.

“Y’all hear that?” A man grouses, apparently disgruntled with the disturbance. At his feet, Goro lay dim witted and pliant, lips still wet with spit. He makes a questioning glance, more so an inquiry on why the mob had ceased.

He craved their attention, after all.

“I’m definitely hearing something.” Another man says, petting Goro’s head with one hand, almost absent-mindedly. Goro has to stop himself from purring, it felt so good to finally let go. To be at the absolute mercy of these men. His mind wanders off as the men deliberate amongst themselves. His head is a blackhole of thought, nothing holds water, he can’t form a single thought long enough to stick. Getting distracted instead by wayward fingers and rutting on workmen’s shoes.

He feels like a plaything. Like a pageant pig.

One of the men by Goro’s side makes to stand, muttering something about a phone, but gets on his knees instead, shifting around underneath the transit seat. “Should be- around here-”

Triumphantly, the man fishes out a briefcase, one Goro barely connects, belongs to him. The latch is now riddled with lint, and it makes him feel queasy to touch.

He transfers his attention back to the mob, deciding to let the lone man figure out his linty problems for himself. Instead, Goro leans forwards on his knees, feeling his legs lock up as he takes another man into his mouth, the head salty and swollen. Goro is quickly guided to the hilt of the man’s cock, nose bustled with wiry hairs and the smell of musk.

“Prissy bitch, can’t wait a second of your life, can you...?” The man extols, lurching into Goro’s mouth just to hear him gag.

Goro blinks back glassy eyes to murmur in content. Humming around the man, rubbing at his perineum with slick fingers. Rocking back and forth on his heels, letting a few members of the mob push his head into place. He could suffocate like this, but he trusts the mob to do what’s best for their own pleasure, and a limp body couldn’t produce nearly as much excitement as Goro could.

“That’s a good boy, just take it. Take Daddy’s cock little pig, you’ll get your reward soon enough.” A man coos, encircling his stout hands around Goro’s throat, applying a gentle pressure to the sides of his windpipe, careful not to damage his trachea. The chokehold keeps Goro upright, giving him no room to escape, not that he wanted to.

“Ghugguk! Ye- _yessss_ …” Goro dribbles out, his words come out as drool, he looks pathetic in the eyes of the mob.

The lone man on the outskirts of the mob begins to make a fuss, enough for Goro to notice, the warm fuzzy feeling around his brain fades to the edges as he turns to look at the man. Holding up a phone, waving it around his face like Goro had any clue what to do with it. As far as Goro was currently concerned, he only existed as a body of pleasure. The phone that came out of the linty briefcase bared him no weight on his conscience. And so, taking all these factors into consideration, he shrugged.

“Not a clue up in the head of yours huh...?” The lint man spoke, chuckling as he belittled Goro. “The caller ID is Akira.” He says again, speaking more to the mob then Goro, apparently deciding that the detective was a lost cause at the moment.

“Answer it.” The man choking Goro says, looking down at him with wide, lustful eyes. “If it’s important enough our little pet will sober up.”

The briefcase man grins at this, answering the call and placing it on speaker. All the while making his way to the center of the mob. Kneeling to Goro’s level and thumbing at his lower lip with a callused thumb, patiently waiting for the man on the other side of the call to speak.

“Goro-? Where are you? I finished the curry a while ago, I was keeping it warm for you but it’s getting really dark out. Are you running late at the office again? Do I need to come get you? The trains have stopped by now I think…”

The mob stood still, quiet and calculating.

“…Goro? Are you there? Did you lose service or something?”

Goro decides to let himself be known with a mellifluous whine, stifled by the fingers in his mouth. He responds to his name being called like a mutt more than a human. Bending around the phone, squinting at it in bewilderment.

“Goro-?” The caller sounds less perplexed now. Breathless, if anything.

The harlot in question shifted onto his knees, giving his legs a much-needed break. The phone at his eye level, slanted so that he couldn’t make out the caller ID. Goro scrutinized the phone with suspicion, eyes darting between the mob. Almost asking for permission.

The mob seemed to murmur in agreement, giving Goro leeway to do whatever he wanted, and Goro ached. He ached all over, the heat had spread from his head to his toes, and his stomach practically keened in longing. He needed relief so badly he’d do anything to reach it.

“Mm-hhh…” He stuttered out at first. Stumbling across his words like a derailed train.

“Goro…? Baby, are you alright?” The caller spoke softly now, his hushed tone like kisses on skin.

A member of the mob nudged at Goro’s hands, prodding him to play with his clit. The invitation felt filthy, to play with himself while this man on the phone asked for him…

It felt all types of wrong, but it satisfied a naughty clink in his head.

He reached down to rub at his clit, sensitive from the mouths of several men. “Y-yes… Yes, I’m okay.” His voice a thin whisper.

A relieved huff. “Oh, thank god, I was worried your phone died again, I didn’t want a repeat of last time.”

“Of last time?” Goro queried, more absorbed in letting the man talk then listening to him.

“Don’t tell me you forgot already; it was like a week ago. Seriously ‘Kechi, these long hours are doing a number on you.” Goro hummed in response, his fingers moving in rapt attention around his clit, sending tingles throughout his body.

“God, maybe let’s pack up the curry for tonight and you can have it for breakfast tomorrow, you sound tired as hell.”

“You do that, I’m a bit- _hhah_ \- occupied at the moment.” The words spill out before Goro can even think. His voice is husky, he sounds like sex.

“Occupied- uh-huh?” The man says, he sounds snarky now.

“ _Yes_ , occupied.” Goro repeats, he’s sure the man can hear the slick sounds of fingers pulsing in and out of his cunt. He’s sure of it. His voice is a transparent mask. He drags back a sob, it’s all he can do to stop himself from outright begging.

“You alone at the office baby?” The caller breathes back, voice dripping in innuendo.

“Mmm-nno-” Goro cries, “I need- need...”

The caller shushes him with an air of practiced ease, “Shh baby, what is it? What do you need?”

Goro’s stuck in his little world of want. He wants so much his heart can barely take it. “I want- I want…” He sounds like a broken machine, desperately edging closer to the men around him, pleading with them for relief.

The caller takes a lengthy breath.

“Goro- Darling, are you touching yourself right now?”

Goro almost sobs out his answer, a flurry of yesses tumble from his mouth. His twitchy fingers circle around his clit in need, his cunt gushing at the prospect of release.

“You’re such a _whore_ baby, playing with yourself at work, you couldn’t wait to get home?” The caller demeans, Goro can almost picture the disappointed eyes, watching him play with himself.

“Little slut.”

There’s a harsh intake of breath, Goro’s not really sure if it’s from him or the crowd of men around him.

“You always need something inside that greedy pussy of yours, need to be filled up. Always-” The caller huffs, Goro can make out the sound of pants being unzipped. “Always- _always_..” The man on the other end of the line babbles, his words feel like a scorching brand on Goro’s skin.

The fingers inside him curl up.

“Fuck!” Goro rucks up, his head jerking into the phone. “Mmh- need to be fucked, I need-”

He feels like slamming his head against the transit car, how much more explicit did he need to be? The mob had an air of hesitance around them, as if they weren’t using Goro as a human fleshlight minutes earlier. Their faces a shade of reddened guilt, like they had tread on someone else’s property.

“Your boy begs so pretty.”

A sharp inhale.

“You- What? Goro is someone else there?” The caller returns.

“So, you’re who he wears the lace for.” Another man adds, his hands pulling at Goro’s hair, forcing his neck to crane back and meet his eyes.

“Akira… Akira-Akira, _Akira_.” The man fingering Goro sneers, “I have two fingers inside your boy right now, he’s been begging me for more. You think I should fold?” It’s smug teasing. The mob is challenging the caller, who seems to be breathing harder with every passing second.

“Are you fucking him?” Akira bites back, his voice haggard, it doesn’t sound like he’s moved. Maybe the man isn’t that worried about Goro’s predicament after all.

“That’s the plan, gonna stuff him with our cocks till he’s dripping, till he can’t take it anymore, and then _keep_ going.”

“Put him on the phone.”

“You’re on speaker.”

There’s some shuffling on the other end. “Goro… Are you alright?” Akira attempts to check in, met with a drunken moan from the man.

“You’re not gonna get much outta him, boy’s completely out of it.” The caller bristles. “You trained him well.”

The man in front of Goro curls his fingers up again, using his free hand to wrestle the boy’s hand away from his clit. Trapping the wayward limb behind his back. Goro squirms at his, letting out a wail, the tears that had brimmed in his eyes finally spill over.

“No!! Fuck! Please-pleassee- touch me, need to cum- need to cum!!” His face is splotchy with red. The fingers just aren’t enough, he needed to be fucked, he needed cock! He can barely verbalize his plea, finding it so hard to form words with his slack mouth.

A mouth much better served, stuffed with cock. A mind much better served, as loose and wobbly. A body much better served as _used_.

Akira seems to pause at the begging. Likely gawking on the other end of the phone, his relationship with the detective, whatever it was. He clearly wasn’t used to Goro acting like this. Like an unhinged incubus, desperate for his next meal.

“He’s begging like that and you haven’t even fucked him yet?” He sounded impressed. “Took me so damn long to train him and now he goes off and submits to load of lechers?” He scoffs, sounding more like he was speaking about a dog then a human, albeit whorish man. “Figures.”

“He responds wonderfully to praise, gets all flushed and whiny.” A man in the crowd says, his pants unzipped as he works himself to the display.

“All brats are like that.” Akira imparts. “Pain-sluts at the beginning but crumble apart at some niceties.”

Goro decides to let himself be known with a sob. His hands both caught behind his back and forced to watch as men stroked themselves to the sight of him. He could feel the cold air of the transit cart blow against his pussy slick.

“Poor baby, sounds like he’s been waiting for so long-” Akira tuts. “Are you boys gonna hurry up and fuck him already? He’s begging for ages.”

Goro babbles at this. “I’ve been good! Oh, I’ve been so good- _please_ \- need to cum.”

And with Akira’s almost-blessing, the fingers inside Goro are pulled out. At first, he squirms, writhing around the arms restraining him, frantic for something to plug his cunt again.

“Hush baby, you’ll get what you need. Just keep being a good little boy…” The voice drawls off, Goro can’t tell if it’s the mob or the caller anymore, his wet eyes have slipped shut.

Finally. _Finally_. A cock slips inside him. Filling his pussy with lava like heat. Goro’s breathing so hard he’s on the verge of hyperventilating. He’s on the absolute edge, he just needs a slight push. His abdomen is drawn up all tight as the cock pulls out, up to the head and just sits there.

Goro meekly opens his eyes, looking straight down at the cock pursed at his lips. _One more push_.

“Please- fuck me Daddy…” He whispers, another tear making it down his flushed cheeks.

The man above him groans, as does the caller. “Fucking- hell.” Enunciating his words with a thrust.

A single thrust is all it takes, Goro finally falls over the edge, his clit untouched and raw. His voice is a tight reedy wail, practically screaming as he comes on the cock inside him, fucking him through his orgasm. There’s a murmur of praise that echoes through the mob, all watching with wide eyes, but all Goro can hear is faint ringing.

His eyes are rolled up to their whites, thighs shaking as he comes down from the high. His arms still held taut behind him; his body is limp. Being fucked up into with no care, the man inside him is chasing his own pleasure, and Goro feels so deliciously _used_.

“Fuck!! Fucckhh-mmh- Use me! Use my pussy for yourselves, use me-breed me!! Fuck me full!” He falls over his words, drool running down his face from his orgasm. He thinks the cock inside him is different now, more thick than lanky, his head lolls around his shoulders, like it’s not secured onto his neck.

Goro barely feels alive, much less like a person, being passed around between the mob like a daycare toy. Being pushed into precarious positions, his legs are twisted under him and then suddenly he’s being held up by two different men. His mind is a rose-tinted blur.

All he can taste is salt.

Through the haze, he can hear the caller panting. It sounds like he’s getting off on this. “Good boy, taking it so well- You take cock so well don’t you Goro? You were born to be bred, to be used.” His voice is cusped, “Wish I was there, wish I could see you being used by all those men, you _whore_.” His voice staggers off, biting a groan into a pillow or a palm.

Goro’s heart teems at the caller’s words, any response he could’ve had is fucked out of him within seconds. As quickly as he comes down, he climbs back up, reaching a new high. Feeling his cunt pulse around the cock inside him, drooling with the collected cum of the mob.

Goro feels a bit like a communal shower, with cum and slick adorning his walls.

Perhaps he’s being too loud, or maybe the mob just wanted to avow authority over their fuck-pig, but Goro soon finds his mouth stuffed full of his tattered panties, soiled from his own slick. The fabric is rough on his tongue, yet Goro appreciated the ability to bite down on something, it kept him somewhat grounded in reality.

“He takes it so well, his pussy is heaven! Such a good fuck-pig, if I knew he was this slutty I’d’ve fucked him ages ago.” The man fucking Goro barks, thrusting into him with the care of a mutt in heat. The mob around him gawping like a starved pack of wolves.

“So good- so good Goro, your greedy cunt is probably stuffed so full. They’re breeding you so well aren’t they baby? Does your pussy feel good stuffed with cock?” The caller asks.

Goro whimpers around the lace. _Yes- yes Daddy feels so good, love being bred by random cocks…_ His wails all but muted, the only thing the mob can make out is a plea to be bred.

As Goro neared his third climax, the man fucking him falters, flipping him over onto his hands and knees, and yanking on his hair. Goro’s head is wrenched up to face another man, stroking his cock with one hand and the other coming up to Goro’s makeshift gag.

“Gonna stuff you with my cock little whore, fill up your mouth too. Sluts like you love that shit, right? Being used like a cumdumpster. You want that, don’t you baby?”

Goro shudders.

The man pulls at the lace softly, permitting a small game of tug of war with Goro before pulling hard on the ruined panties. “ _Good_ whore.” He praised, patting at Goro’s cheek with one hand.

“Wait.”

The cock head in Goro’s mouth took pause, before shoving all the way in, more forcefully then necessary but Goro lapped it up.

“Take a photo.” The man on the other end of the phone spoke, sounding close to climax himself.

The mob seemed to share a collective chuckle at the two men. “You lot are _pathetic_ , the both of you. He’s a slut and you’re what- getting off on cuckholding? I have half a mind to put a bitch in your boy right now, breed him up proper, get him pregnant off my seed.”

Goro swallowed around the cock in his mouth, the foggy degrading words making him tremble. “Mmh-cock~” He added unhelpfully.

The caller groaned at the idea, blathering out a few more pleas for photos of the debauched detective. “Please, want to see him get ruined- hhaa- want to see him stuffed with your cocks.”

The mob shot off some quick photos to the caller, making sure to play up the raunch. Having Goro gaze up at the camera, eyes red-rimmed and glassy, with his swollen lips wrapped around another man’s cock. Akira’s replying whine was answer enough that the photos had gone through.

“ _Jesus fuck_ -”

Though the phone muffled the sound, the mob could hear the man reach his peak, spilling through his frantic fingers at the images of the debauched detective. A mantra of curses under his breath.

“Good?” The man down his boyfriend’s throat queries, Akira can nearly see the man’s smug smile through the phone.

“Good.” He echoed, voice quivering.

“Mmnggh-” Goro says, choking around the dick sliding down his throat, peering at the mob with blown out eyes.

“Insatiable bitch,” a member of the mob grunted out, “now you get to listen to us milk your boy dry, fill him up with our seed until he’s fucking pregnant. How’s that sound?”

Akira ground his hips against his palm, “give it your all, fuck him until he cries.” He bit out a low groan, “fuck him until he can’t stand up for himself, leave him _ruined_ for me-” The man’s voice was brutish, words practically coming out as growls.

“Hear that fuck-pig? We’re gonna get you fucking _pregnant_.” The man’s cock slammed into Goro with a wrath, his hands surely leaving bruises around Goro’s waist.

“Oh! _Fuck_ ~ please, breed me! Mmngh- ruin me for everyone else!!”

Goro let his eyes slip shut once more, relaxing his tongue for the cock fucking his throat. Little moans managed to slip past with every hard thrust, he quickly found himself collapsed against the filthy transit floor. Arms too weak to hold himself up any longer, the only thought in his mind being cock. Goro idly felt himself fade from the sounds of men grunting and the wet slaps of skin on skin, instead focusing on the phone lost to the ground as he sunk further into his depraved headspace. Letting himself be used as a limp sex doll for the mob’s enjoyment, loving the feeling of cum running down his legs, mixed with his own sweat and slick.

Hours seemed to pass, the train had long since stopped moving, yet the mob never noticed. More occupied with their sweet fuck-pig, muttering about breeding and ownership. It made Goro’s skin tingle.

“ _Christ_ , look at him. Utterly ruined.” A man spoke between Goro’s thighs, licking at his own spunk dribbling out of his cunt.

The detective was on the brink of consciousness, limbs spilled out around him, naked body covered in bite marks and bruises. Spunk decorating every piece of bare skin, he looked like a whore who’d come to absolution. Eyes fluttering like he was on the verge of sleep, the soft flush around his cheeks did almost nothing to distract from his debauched state.

The phony detective brought to justice.

“What now?” One of the mob members spoke, patting off his soiled pants with a rag that looked deviously similar to Goro’s slacks.

The detective’s phone groaned out, rumbling around the floor. “Are you done?” The caller whispered. His voice hoarse, like he’d spent all his energy listening to the mob fuck his boyfriend raw.

“Just leave him.” The caller continued, a bit of husk dipping into his voice. “Let him wake up all confused and full of cum. He _deserves_ it.”

The mob seemed to murmur at this, giving one last eyeful at the detective crumpled on the floor.

“You getting off on this?” A member of the crowd asked, looking down at the phone with a cocky smile.

“Just did.” He finished, ending the call with no extended grace.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah Goro, I assume he'll have a very rough awakening on that train-cart. Probably be found by the train conductor in the morning and ran through again...  
> Additionally, I like the implication I created that Akechi just fingers himself at work sometimes and calls Akira to help him get off- it's _fitting. ___
> 
> _Oh and, this fic took me so long I fear it may have inadvertently caused the apocalypse.._  
>  One last thing, you can find me on twitter [@chaiouse](https://twitter.com/chaiouse)  
> 


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